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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23500786">Gamesmanship</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby'>helsinkibaby</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>FBI (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Het, Romance, Secret Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:43:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23500786</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a long case and it’s not over yet. Jubal and Kristen find a way to keep themselves occupied.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kristen Chazal/Jubal Valentine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Gamesmanship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There was a tumblr post last week about men being hotter in shirts with sleeves rolled up to the elbows. I concurred.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The thing is, Kristen’s sure none of this is her fault. </p><p>She’s been cooped up in 26 Fed for almost thirty-seven hours straight, along with the rest of the team, chasing down a potential terrorist threat - she’s actually missing field work right now, at least she’d have an excuse to go outside, feel some fresh air on her face. She’s been staring at screens and numbers and names for so long that her eyes actually hurt, a dirty, gritty feeling that speaks of general fatigue as well as screen fatigue. She’s managed to catch maybe four hours of catnaps here and there and she knows that one of them was snatched slumped over her desk before Scola came across her and woke her up to usher her to one of the interrogation rooms where a cot had been set up for just such emergencies. Last night’s dinner was terrible Chinese food, too bland, too chewy, not anywhere near warm enough and today she’s been surviving on too much coffee and too many carbs and she’s feeling it. </p><p>She’s running on fumes, is what she’s saying, but it’s not the first time, they’ve had days like this before. </p><p>And she thinks - no, she knows - she could get through this just fine. </p><p>Except that Jubal has decided to sit beside her as she runs the latest set of searches and he’s definitely reapplied his cologne recently because there’s no way any man smells that good after thirty-seven hours in the trenches. </p><p>As if that wasn’t enough? While she’s in the middle of explaining what she’s doing, while he’s listening to her intently, never taking his eyes off her, he puts his ever present pencil horizontally between his teeth and starts to <i>roll up his damn sleeves</i>.</p><p>Which Kristen can’t fault him for doing, her blazer had come off in the interest of comfort hours ago. </p><p>But she’s always had a particular weakness for a man in a shirt that’s open at the collar with the sleeves rolled up. </p><p>For a moment, she can’t remember if she’s ever shared that with Jubal. Then she manages to lift her gaze from his arms to his face and she sees the tiniest of twitches of his lips, how he lifts one eyebrow, not enough that anyone would notice anything untoward, but enough. </p><p>He knows exactly what he’s doing. </p><p>Pressing her lips together, Kristen looks back down to her keyboard, continues on her with her explanation without missing too many beats. She’s a professional, she reminds herself firmly, she can do this, can do her job without thinking of those arms, how she woke up yesterday morning in her bed (and oh, how she misses that bed right now) with those arms around her waist, holding her tightly. She won’t think about what they looked like against her skin as his fingers traced a path around her navel, and she definitely won’t think about what they looked like, or what it felt like, as his hands drifted lower. </p><p>She won’t think about any of that, she tells herself firmly. </p><p>“You okay there, Kris?” Can anyone else apart from her hear the vague, but distinct, hint of amusement in his voice? </p><p>Doesn’t matter, she decides. She’s definitely going to make him pay for this. </p><p>“I’m fine.” Her smile is more for the benefit of anyone who might be watching. She stretches and to anyone else, it might look as if she's been sitting in one position for too long. Jubal, on the other hand, will see the arch of her back and, hopefully, think other thoughts. "Just a long couple of days, you know?"</p><p>"Yeah." Jubal's voice has definitely got lower, his eyes darker, yet warmer somehow.  One point to her. "I know I can't stop thinking about what I'm going to do when I get home." </p><p>A line like that should make her roll her eyes. It should make her shake her head. </p><p>It should not make her heart pound and her mouth dry and her knees weak. </p><p>And yet. </p><p>Another point to him then. </p><p>"Then we'd better keep trying to find this guy," she says, turning back to her computer with eyes that are a lot less gritty feeling, a soul that's not feeling quite so tired. </p><p>After all, nothing focuses the mind more than knowing you have something to look forward to. </p><p>And this little game they have going will make the day a lot more interesting.</p>
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